


Root Exploit

by elev



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Captivity, Couch Cuddles, Damsels in Distress, Dubious Consent, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Kidnapping, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rescue, Revenge, Rope Bondage, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elev/pseuds/elev
Summary: "Jeesh," Root said dramatically, "you lure a pretty girl to an abandoned warehouse and tie her up for an hour just once, and she never lets you forget it." (From Root Access.)Or, what happened when Root kidnapped Elizabeth for the afternoon?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In “Root Access”, I mentioned an incident where Root kidnapped Ellie briefly, and a couple of readers have asked me about that. So, I wrote it. Enjoy!
> 
> Note: this is a fantasy story. Root’s actions in this story are NOT indicative of a healthy BDSM relationship. Don’t try this at home, folks. Or, if this kind of scenario turns you on, be sure to practice safe, sane, and consensual BDSM techniques, and work out all the details with your partner before jumping in. Never leave someone tied up unsupervised.

#####

"So. What are you wearing?" Shaw asked.

I snorted. "Pajamas," I said. "And not even the sexy kind. They're flannel with little kitties on them."

With a quick patter of taps on the keyboard, I spun my damaged ship around and ejected, maneuvering my player character around into the perfect position to construct a missile turret while still keeping the bulk of the ship between me and the enemy vessel peppering outer space with laser beams. The damn thing had been hounding me for the past five minutes, and I was running out of materials to keep my ship in one piece.

"You can make flannel sexy," Shaw pointed out. "Also, it's two in the afternoon."

"Pajamas are eternal," I said absentmindedly. I managed to get the turret constructed, but now I needed ammunition for it. I used a nearby control panel to set the shipboard assembler to production mode and then considered how I was going to get to it, since the enemy ship had shot off the connecting transfer pipes...which I had foolishly not protected with armor. "Besides, I don't have anything to do today. Why should I bother getting dressed?"

"Good point," Shaw said. She lowered her voice and added, "You should be naked instead."

I laughed, even as a lucky laser beam from the enemy ship blew up an oxygen generator a few meters away. That'd be a pain to repair. "I'm sensing that you're bored."

"I'm on babysitting duty, what do you expect?" Shaw said. A moment later, in the background I heard a man's voice say, "Hey! I resent that!" He sounded whiny.

"Is this the guy with the hitman after him, or the guy who owes money to his corrupt landlord-slash-drug dealer?"

"The first one. John's dealing with the slum lord right now. Then he's off to find the hitman's boss. I bet he's having _loads_ of fun without me. Probably shooting lots of kneecaps and growling out threats like Batman."

"That does sound like him." I finally managed to break through the armor and into the corridor where I had hidden the assembler. Loading up on sweet, sweet missile rounds, I backtracked to the outer hull.

"Meanwhile, _I'm_ stuck with this...brogrammer. All he does is whine that he doesn't have access to Reddit."

"She won't let me access the Internet at _all_!" came the voice. "She took my phone! There's nothing to do!"

"Read a book or something," Shaw yelled back. "You've got four fucking shelves to choose from."

I smirked and moved the missile rounds from my backpack into the turret inventory and then armed the turret. All that was left to do was to spin the ship on its axis to bring the turret in line with the enemy ship, assuming my gyroscopes hadn't gotten damaged. Retreating back into the ruined corridor, I accessed another control panel and overrode the ship's gyro control, setting it to roll at 6 RPM. Almost five seconds later exactly, I heard the tell-tale sound of the missile turret firing, its explosive reports muffled by the absence of air and the distance between me and the hull.

I didn't hear the explosions, but I _did_ hear the rapid _ping-ping-ping_ of laser gun fire against the hull suddenly cease—and the fat red dot of the enemy vessel disappeared from my HUD a second later.

Hell yeah!

Sighing in relief, I paused the game and adjusted my gaming headset. Leaning back in my chair, I asked, "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help out with a case today? Nothing needs hacked?"

"I'm sure," Shaw said. "It's a waiting game at this point."

"I gotta admit, I'm pretty bored too," I said. "It's been, what, three days since we've gotten a fun case?"

"I'm sure we'll get a case where you can hack something sooner or later. It'll be a nice change of pace—been dodging a lot of bullets recently."

"Mmm. Good thing you're so fit."

"You know," Shaw said slyly. "If you're bored, I can think of something you can do."

"Uh-huh. Been doing plenty of that already."

"Oh really?" Shaw said, her voice turning silky. "I'd love to hear about— _ugh_. Incoming call. It's probably Finch or something. Call you later?"

"Sure."

"TTFN." A moment later, my headset played a cheerful little jingle as the call ended. I sighed and hung the headphones up on the little stand next to my desktop tower. Leaving the game paused, I stood up and stretched luxuriously, reaching for the ceiling. God, it'd been weeks since I'd been this much of a couch potato—usually the cases kept me busy, but this drought of need for a hacker was getting to me. There was only so much Space Engineers, programming, stupid cat pictures, and porn a girl could take before getting stir-crazy, and I was well over my limit.

I padded out to my apartment living room. It was bright and airy, courtesy of the lovely day beyond my kitchen window. I decided to take a walk—the park near my apartment was bound to be lovely, and it'd do me good to be out in the sun for awhile.

It looked like the perfect weather for swirly skirts and summer sandals. I got dressed, grabbed my cell phone, and headed out, ambling down the sidewalk towards the park.

About halfway there, a sedan pulled up next to me. Out of instinct, I swerved away, until I heard a familiar voice say, "Hey!"

The passenger window rolled down to reveal Root, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel and a bright grin on her face. " _Hi,_ Lizzy," she drawled.

"Oh my God, Root," I said, rolling my eyes. "We've been _over_ this. It's 'Elizabeth', or 'Ellie' if you can't handle four syllables."

"Sorry," she said, sounding not very sorry at all. The stupid grin was still on her face. "But, now that I have your attention, how'd you like to help take down a very bad guy this afternoon?"

That piqued my interested right away. A case? _Finally!_ But I bit back the affirmation, because the last time I'd gotten involved with Root, I'd had to shoot two people, and the memory was still fresh in my mind. Root was a _huge_ unknown.

"I'll bite," I said carefully. "What kind of bad guy are we talking about here, and how likely am I to end up shooting somebody again?"

"For the second question, zero," Root said, the grin widening. "Trust me, it'll be perfectly safe."

I snorted. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"I mean it. You won't even need to touch your gun to help this time. And no one's going to be pointing a gun at you."

"Fair enough." I crossed my arms. "So what about the first part?"

"The guy—Alan Jones—he's tangled up in the dark web. He's running a DDoS-as-a-service venture. Almost broke the Internet a few weeks ago. You heard about DNS amplification attacks?"

"Yeah. Didn't they take down at least one IX?"

"For a few minutes, yeah. That was him. He controls one of the most powerful botnets in existence, and he sells it to the highest bidder. Fancies himself a professional _businessman_. He's not. He's a little boy touching things he shouldn't, and we're going to take him down." For a moment, Root looked personally affronted at Jones' actions, but a second later she was right back to her obnoxiously chipper self. "He's well guarded, but I've got a plan to get to him without anybody getting hurt."

"Since when are you concerned about people getting hurt?" I asked. "You including tazing people in that definition?"

"Pft." Root rolled her eyes. "You listen to Sameen too much. Contrary to what she says, I can get through a job without having to light anybody up."

"I didn't say anything about Shaw."

"You still listen to her too much."

"You also didn't say anything about not tazing people."

"There's a _really_ good chance this plan doesn't involve actually tazing anybody, as long as they behave."

"Uh huh. Because the bad guys _always_ listen and make wise decisions."

"Sure," Root said, which I thought was a bit of a strange response, but then again, Root was a strange person.

"So—what do you need me for in all this?"

"Oh, you know," Root said, curling a strand of hair around her finger, "a little social engineering here, some misdirection there. Maybe setting off a few alerts on purpose so I can slip in unnoticed while people are otherwise occupied. I'll be doing most of the legwork, so I could really use another hacker sequestered safely away somewhere in a comfy chair—no fieldwork necessary."

I perked up. This was sounding kind of thing I enjoyed the most—infiltrating the network, gathering info, putting on another persona and ringing up unsuspecting targets as "Tina from IT", and could you please go to this page and reset your password? Thank you very much, sir. And all from the comfort of a nice office chair, which meant no getting into gunfights or dodging punches. On the surface, it sounded like the perfect case.

But, again, this was _Root_ sitting in the car with that stupid grin on her face, and the last time I'd seen that charming smile, my day had turned to shit within a half-hour.

She sensed my hesitation, and said, "I mean, it's probably more exciting than what you had planned this evening. Which is to say, nothing. And by that I mean, probably masturbating."

I scowled, feeling the blood rush to my face. Before I could get in a word in edgewise, Root added, "You can always do that later, if you still feel like it. Also, I promise you won't get shot at this time. Really. No guns."

I tapped my foot, considering. "And you'll drive no more than fifteen over the speed limit this time on the way there?"

"Sure."

"And no driving on the sidewalk?"

"Promise."

"And if I hear 'Banana Phone' on the radio, I'm taking a rolling dive out the door."

"That was a one-time lapse in judgment, I swear."

"All right," I relented. "Let me in."

True to her word—for once—Root behaved herself behind the wheel, mostly sticking to the speed of the traffic around us and not even once trying to take the Civic on any off-pavement "shortcuts". As she drove, we talked about the recent DdoS attack.

"...he started with a few gigabits' worth of compromised devices," Root said. "And then he pointed them at open resolvers and spoofed the source addresses so they'd send the packets to the victim instead."

"Gee, it's almost like running open, public DNS servers with no rate limiting is a bad idea," I said. "How'd he amplify the attack? Picking domains with big responses?"

"Yep," Root said. "Knocked a bunch of the big web sites offline because one of the DNS providers went down for the count. He targeted their upstream connections instead of going after them directly."

"And he did all this...why?"

"Because somebody paid him," Root said, shrugging. "And he has no compunctions about causing collateral damage. Some of the, ah, services he interrupted were _very_ important."

I was expecting some examples, and when Root didn't provide any, I said, "Like what?"

Root hesitated. "Well, you know. Banks and stuff. Top secret things. Also, PornHub. I'm sure you noticed that one."

I spared Root a sideways look of annoyance and went back to gazing out the window.

"Say," I said, "where are we going?"

"We're almost there," Root said. "There's a converted safehouse in one of these old office buildings. Finch owns the whole office park, naturally."

"Of course he does," I said.

Root pulled into the lot and stopped the car next to a squat, aging two-story office building. It looked like it'd been built back in the seventies—a brick and tan concrete exterior, dark metal awnings, and vertical window blinds that hung from floor to ceiling behind darkened windows. There were a few other cars in the lot, but no one else around. If it hadn't been for the neatly maintained grass and shrubberies along the front walk, I would've thought the place to be abandoned.

"The wifi and cell coverage here is great," Root said as she unlocked the front door by waving her phone in front of a card reader. "It's nice and private here."

The overhead lights clicked on as we stepped into a small, sunny atrium, passing an empty reception desk and a potted tree on the way to a wide stairwell. I followed Root upstairs to the 2nd floor and down a hallway lit by skylights. We passed several doors and frosted glass windows before Root stopped at one door, seemingly at random, and pushed it open.

"Here we are," she said.

It was a spacious office—definitely on the retro side, with wood panel walls and clusters of globe lights hanging from the ceiling, a boxy leather couch along one wall, and a massive, intimidating desk with an anachronistically modern pair of flatscreens, a sleek mouse, and a keyboard set on top. The hanging blinds allowed only thin ribbons of sunlight through to spill over the thick beige carpet. There was a sturdy wooden chair with thick leather cushions set in front of the desk. Curiously, it had been rotated to face out towards the couch instead of the desk.

In retrospect, I should've paid closer attention to that.

Root leaned back out the doorway and peered down the hallway as I stepped further into the office, intent on examining the desk computer. It looked like a nice setup; the cables from the monitors were routed neatly into a hole near one corner of the desk and it looked like the keyboard and mouse were wireless. The only other objects on the desk surface were an old-school brass lamp with a green shade and, next to it, a compact wireless router.

The door snicked softly shut behind us.

"I hope you have a spare laptop," I said as I approached the desk. "Four hands, one keyboard only works on NCIS."

"Yeah, about that," Root said, and alarm bells started ringing in my head immediately at the sudden change in her tone. I spun around and found myself staring down the business end of a taser.

"Woah, what—!" Reflexively, I raised my hands. "What the hell is going on?"

"I was serious about needing a hacker in a chair and causing a distraction," Root said. She tilted her head. "The rest might've been a bit of a stretch. Sorry."

 _Oh, for heaven's sake_ , I thought, realizing that I'd just walked into a goddamn trap without suspecting a thing. Root had been leading me along the whole time.

"Are you kidnapping me?" I asked, gulping.

"I mean, _technically_ , I'm imprisoning you—I didn't have to take you anywhere by force. You should really be a little less oblivious sometimes."

"Root, come on," I said nervously. "Can't we talk about this?"

"Put your cell phone on the ground. Slowly. Take out your hair pins, too. Then step back towards the chair."

Gritting my teeth, I pulled the phone out of my skirt pocket and complied.

"Don't do anything rash," Root said. She took one step forward for each one I took back, but she was being careful to stay out of range—I didn't think I could get to her before she could taze me. "Just play along, and you'll be safe and sound at home in an hour. Pinky swear."

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" I asked shakily. The back of my knee brushed against the chair and I froze in place.

"Sit," Root said. "Put your hands behind you. And please don't make this difficult for us. I did promise no bloodshed, but that assumes that you act smart."

I gulped and sat. No sooner had I put my arms behind the chair than Root circled around me and grabbed my wrists. A second later, I heard the distinctive sound of a zip-tie being ratcheted tight and I felt the smooth plastic bite into my wrists. Within seconds, my hands were bound to one of the cross-bars on the back of the chair. I tugged gingerly at the restraints, finding them disappointingly sturdy.

"Put your feet back," Root said. I hesitated, aware of the way my legs would be forced to spread on either side of the chair. I was suddenly feeling quite exposed in my skirt. But I didn't have much choice. Reluctantly, I allowed Root to pull my ankles behind me and fasten them to the back chair legs.

I shivered at the restriction of my mobility.

…was I imagining that sudden flutter of anticipation from my nether regions?

"Root, c'mon," I said, pulling harder at my bonds. They creaked but stayed disappointingly tight. "Let me go."

"What's the magic word?"

I had no qualms about humoring a dangerous psychopath who was armed with a taser. "Please?" I said hopefully.

"Mmm, no," she said. She stood and walked around in front of me, one hand on her hip. "Sorry. It's complicated."

"Complicated _how_? Why the fuck do I need to be tied up for whatever harebrained plan you've got going on?"

"It's actually quite a nice plan," Root said. She pulled the office chair out from behind the desk and sat down in front of me, sprawling with her arm and head propped up on one armrest. "See, I have it on good authority that Alan Jones is planning to flee the country within the week, and I don't know where he is. But I know somebody that does. Problem is, my soon-to-be informant had a falling out with some of his other...'business partners', and now he's got a price on his head."

Understanding clicked in my mind. "He's the guy you're after. Shaw's Number, I mean. The guy she's protecting. You're using me as bait to lure her away."

"Wow, look at you," Root said with fake awe in her voice. "You figured that out fast. See, this is why Sameen likes working with you. Brains _and_ beauty."

She had the nerve to be smiling still. In fact, the expression on her face as her eyes flicked up and down my body was...a little concerning.

"You just made this kinda weird," I said, squirming in my chair. I could feel the blood rising to my face. I tried to ignore it. There was _no_ way I was getting turned on by this.

"Sorry," Root said, and once again, it was completely unconvincing. "Just trying to give a compliment. I'm not very good at it."

"I'm flattered. I'd be even more flattered if you untied me."

"Sorry, no can do," Root said. She turned idly back and forth in the chair, pushing off with one foot. "Anyway. _Usually_ I'd just go in and taze everybody and whisk Sir Whines-a-lot off to some nice quiet warehouse for a chat, but I'm supposed to be on my best behavior and I'm not allowed to taze Sameen any more. So, you're my bait. Sam will come running when she finds out her girlfriend's been kidnapped. She leaves the safehouse, I sneak in and kidnap the brogrammer, you get rescued, I get my information, nobody important gets tazed, and everyone's happy."

"Right, I'm super happy right now." I groaned in frustration and clenched my fists. "Look, can we get on with this? When do I get to go home? You promised an hour."

"I did," Root said. She stood, pulled out her cell phone, and checked the screen. "Hmm. But I'm a little ahead of schedule."

"If you make me miss Wheel of Fortune tonight—"

"Re _lax_ ," Root said. "You'll get your chance to yell letters at a television like an old lady. But in the meantime..." She looked me over, once again making me feel like some sort of butterfly about to be trapped in a jar. "You don't look very comfy."

"That's because some crazy woman tied me to a chair with zip ties and they pinch my wrists when I move too much."

"I can fix that."

"By untying me?" I said hopefully. Root walked behind the desk and reached for something stashed underneath it, picking up a slim duffel bag. As she returned, she unzipped it and pulled out a bundle of rope.

My heart sank.

"Really?" I said as she stepped behind me again. "No, I'm fine, really. I was kidding. Root! Leave me alone!" I gasped as my struggles made the zip ties pinch my wrists again.

"I mean, I could leave the nice tight zip ties," she said as she coiled the rope around my wrists. "Since you like them so much."

"No, no, that's fine." There was a _snap_ , and I felt the pressure on my wrists slacken. For an instant, I was tempted to use that brief moment to try and escape—but Root grabbed my wrist and said, "Don't try it." I sighed, remembering my feet were bound too. So I just sat there and grumbled while Root cinched the rope around my wrists. It was more comfortable than the zip ties, for sure, but now my chances of escaping were pretty much nil.

My ankles, as expected, soon got the same treatment. She tied each foot to one of the chair cross-bars, leaving my toes dangling off the ground. Then Root moved up to my knees, binding each one tightly to the front chair legs, which I thought was a little excessive. Then came the ropes looped under and over my breasts and around the back of my chair, trapping my arms further behind me.

"Okay, now you're making this _really_ weird," I whined. By now it was clear that my body was responding a little differently to the situation than my mind. I fought against the ropes, squirming and wriggling, but Root patiently pulled them tighter, which had the unfortunate side-effect of squeezing my breasts between the ropes.

"Just making sure you don't go anywhere," she said sweetly.

"You can _stop_ now." Root had yet another bundle of rope in her hands. I fidgeted under her gaze and tried to close my legs, but of course, the ropes and chair held them apart.

"Hush," she said as she looped the rope over my thighs and behind the chair, tying my lower body down, "we both know you're into this kind of thing."

I scowled. Had she—had she really just gone there?

"Are you seriously telling me you can't figure out the difference between consensual fun and getting kidnapped?" I demanded.

Root shrugged. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?"

 _Yes,_ said my nether regions.

"Like hell!" I said, bucking back and forth in the chair, but it was heavy and solid and the movement accomplished exactly nothing.

"Uh-huh. It's okay, you can admit you're getting a little turned on right now. Or a lot. Nobody here but you and me, and I'm not judging."

"Fuck _off_ ," I snarled.

"Hmm, you're pretty loud," Root said, tapping her chin. She reached into the duffel bag again, this time pulling out a fat ball gag, the kind with holes in it for breathing and safety. My stomach dropped at the sight of it. "Can't have you attracting too much attention."

"Woah, hang on, _no_ ," I said, pissed off at both the thought of Root gaging me and the smoldering arousal that had _definitely_ reacted positively to the sight of the red rubber ball. "What the fuck, Root? Can you just leave already?"

"I will, in a little while."

"You realize those don't actually make people quieter, right?"

"Yes, but they're fun. Stop deconstructing my clichés."

"Goddammit, Root-!" I struggled uselessly against the ropes as she circled behind me and held the gag in front of my mouth.

"We can do it the easy way or the hard way," she said, and I stilled instantly, my shoulders drooping in defeat. She waited a moment to make sure I wasn't struggling. "Good girl. Open your mouth. Remember, it's just for an hour...unless you want it longer."

I didn't even bother responding to that one.

"It's not like it makes much difference for you, anyway," Root said as she popped the gag into my mouth and buckled it behind my head, guiding my hair out from beneath the straps with surprisingly tender touches before she pulled the gag tight. It was large, but not uncomfortably so. (A shiver of delight tingled down my spine, much to my annoyance.)

She brushed the hair out of my eyes and said, "There's no way you can talk your way out of this one. You might not understand now, but this is a _very_ important case, and I really do you need you as my bait so I don't risk hurting Sameen. Sorry."

For an instant, Root sounded at least a little sincere. Or maybe it was my imagination. I rolled my eyes and cursed into the gag.

"Just sit back and relax," Root cooed into my ear. "C'mon." She put her hands on my shoulders, rubbing gently. "You're totally safe here. I made sure of that. And Sam will be along in an hour to rescue the damsel in distress. It might not be what you want, but as far as getting kidnapped goes, you gotta admit, you've got it pretty good right now. Might as well make the best out of the situation and enjoy it." She let go, and my shoulders tingled at the sudden absence of her warm touch.

I mean, she had a point, from a logical perspective at least, but that was a slippery slope towards justifying her behavior. In a way, I was glad I was gagged, because I would've been arguing with her otherwise. I settled for glaring and tugging angrily at my restraints instead.

Root apparently took my silence as agreement. She glanced at her cell phone and said, "Mmm. Still a bit early." She looked me over again, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "You know, I feel pretty bad for having to leave you here all alone. Can't even leave a TV on or something so you don't get bored."

Oh, I did _not_ like where this was going.

"Go _away_ ," I tried to say through the gag. I was pretty sure Root got the gist, but she ignored me and instead reached into her duffel bag yet again, and the objects she withdrew this time sent a shiver of anticipation throughout my body, fanning the flickering arousal between my thighs into something much harder to ignore.

In Root's left hand was yet another bundle of rope, but in her right was a far more concerning thing: a back massager.

Eyes wide, I shook my head as she approached, making muffled "uh-uh!" noises. I tried frantically to free my hands, but Root had tied her knots well, and my wrists remained bound. Root just grinned and knelt down in front of me.

"What kind of friend would I be if I left you here with no entertainment?" she said, looking up at me with those stupid doe-like eyes as I struggled, straining against the ropes. She lifted my skirt, her fingers grazing along my inner thighs as she moved the fabric out of the way.

 _Maybe Shaw's right about wearing skirts all the time,_ I thought for a brief moment, right before Root's hand brushed against my panties. My mind short-circuited at the gentle caress, and I was suddenly torn between canting my hips towards her touch or squirming away. Ultimately, I did neither, because the rope around my thighs permitted _very_ little movement.

"Wet already?" Root said, her voice cloyingly sweet. "You're really getting into this."

I huffed angrily through the gag. Root didn't seem to notice. She just held up the massager, waving it toyingly in front of me, and then she clicked it on. A low buzz filled the room, and I clenched in anticipation. She let me stew like that for a few seconds before she lowered the business end of the device, making contact with the inside of my thigh. She danced it around a little, touching it just long enough for me to feel that, while this toy meant business, it definitely wasn't turned up all the way.

Her touch was teasing, brief, and she kept the toy far away from my intimates. Even so, the sound of the vibrator alone was enough to fan my unwilling desire, especially as the toy spiraled nearer and nearer to my womanhood and I began to feel its reverberations in my core.

A soft whimper escaped my lips when she finally allowed the vibrator to make contact with my panties. Emboldened by the sound, Root grinned and guided the head of the toy upward towards my navel, pausing right on my clit, and _that_ got a muffled squeak and a shudder out of me.

"I've always wondered if you're the strong, silent type or a screamer in bed," Root said dreamily as she repeated the motion, holding the toy tighter against me as I squirmed. "Just kidding. I know which one it is. I like the noises you make. They sound much better in person."

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold the moans back. By now my arousal was burning in full force and my body craved the stimulation from the device in Root's nimble hands. But it was so inconsistent! She gave and then she took, holding the buzzing device just out of range while I whined in frustration.

"We should've done this ages ago," Root purred. "We'll have to have dates like this more often in the future."

I had just enough resistance left to shake my head _no_ at Root, who just laughed.

"But you sound like you're having such a good time! I—oh. Is it time to go already?" Still teasing me with the vibrator in one hand, she picked up her phone with the other. "Darn, it is." She clicked off the vibrator and set it aside. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get your fun."

From the duffel bag she procured one last bundle of rope. She used it to tie the handle of the massager to my leg, working the head of the device between my panties and my body. The textured business end of the device rubbed against my clit, and even with the motor off, the sensation sent little bursts of pleasure up my spine.

"There we go," Root said happily. "Now you can enjoy yourself for awhile, and I can go find the guy who knows the guy who almost broke the Internet. Have fun!"

An instant later, the toy sang to life. I yelped and jerked in my restraints, startled by the sudden stimulation—it was running faster than before, and I didn't like that very much.

"Time to go," Root said, slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder and pausing at the door. "You have fun now. Shaw will be here in about an hour."

"Wait!" I begged through the gag. "Turn it off!" Root somehow made sense of the muffled pleas and said, "Sorry, got a tight timetable."

" _Root!_ " I whined.

"Try not to cum too soon. You've know how sensitive you get! Anyway, bye now."

And she left.

#####


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update here. I'm still working on the fun bits. This story will be three chapters long. Enjoy!

#####

As soon as Root's footsteps faded away down the hall, I began to struggle in earnest against my bindings, rocking back and forth in the chair in a vain attempt to dislodge the ropes. Unfortunately for me, Root had done a _really_ good job with the knots, and the chair was too sturdy to move much. No matter how I squirmed and fought, my hands remained bound tightly behind me, my body tied down to the chair, and my legs spread open, all while the wand continued to buzz between my thighs despite my best efforts to buck the damn thing away from me.

And even though I tried to pretend it didn't exist, the toy was doing its job _well_ , buzzing away at my intimates and evoking insistent sensations that couldn't be denied. A deep feeling of warmth was spreading inexorably out from my core, pleasure tingling throughout my body. I was helpless to stop it, but I tried anyway, tried ignoring it, tried delaying the inevitable, because I knew that as soon as I came for the first time, my "comfortable" stay in this chair would quickly become anything but.

Grunting with effort, I attempted one last time to dislodge the toy and then collapsed in frustration, clenching my fists.

Without warning, the vibrations lessened, the sound lowering in pitch to a gentle purr. I breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, I was wondering what was going on. Had I bumped the controls somehow? Or had Root engaged some kind of randomized intensity setting on the toy? The latter definitely seemed like something she'd do. I glanced down to see if I'd jostled something, but Root had smoothed my skirt back down over my legs, and the only indication that the vibrator was underneath my clothing was a faint hum.

Regardless of why the vibrator had slowed, the reprieve was welcome, even if a tiny part of me was disappointed. I tried to distract myself from the stimulation by looking around the office, hoping to spot a pair of scissors or something that I could use to escape. There was nothing, naturally, and even if there had been a letter opener on the desk or something, the carpet and the heavy chair made it almost impossible to move.

There was, however, a digital clock on the wall next to the door, and it read 12:14 PM. So now at least I knew about how long I'd have to suffer before Shaw showed up.

Assuming she showed up on time.

Assuming she showed up at all.

...Root _would_ tell Shaw where I was...right?

( _No! Don't even think about that._ )

Before I could think too much about that disturbing possibility, the toy sped up again, eliciting a startled huff and more squirming from me.

Oh, but it felt _amazing._ If the situation had been a little different, I would've been enjoying myself. But I couldn't let myself go, not with almost an hour to go before Shaw showed up (hopefully).

I clenched my fists again—about the only freedom of movement I had below my neck aside from wiggling my feet—and tried to focus on literally anything but the pleasure building between my legs.

Fifty-five minutes to go...

#####

"No," Shaw said. She'd been getting an awful lot of mileage out of that word lately.

"But I just want to check Reddit!"

"And by _check Reddit,_ you really mean: _post all about the 'bitchy midget' that has you holed up in this well-furnished and comfortable safehouse while 'George Clooney with a rocket launcher' takes care of the goons that were hired to put you six feet under_ , right?" She inserted the air quotes at all the right places. The young man deflated like a balloon under Shaw's calm gaze.

"I thought so," Shaw said. "No. No phone for you. Go back to your book."

"There's nothing to read!" he said, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that must've held several hundred books at _least_ from sci-fi and fantasy adventure authors.

"Tough shit," Shaw said. "Dude, how the fuck are you a programmer? Programmers are supposed to be smart. There's a guy out there who paid good money for someone to _kill_ you, and all you're concerned about is _when can I go home?_ and _why can't I post a bunch of revealing information online?_ Do I really need to put the pieces together for you? Just chillax and pick up a book before I finish the hitman's job for him."

Sulking, the man went over to the shelf, picked a book at random, and practically threw himself down into the plush armchair next to the shelf.

 _Finch isn't paying me enough for this_ , Shaw thought as she went back to watching the latest conspiracy theory on the History channel, keeping the programmer in her peripheral vision. _I should just let this guy eat it._

A few minutes later, right when it was looking like the History channel was about to reveal that the mysterious crop circles were, in fact, _not_ caused by aliens (and instead were probably caused by drunken teens joyriding in a tractor), Shaw's cell phone rang. She checked the screen and sighed, disappointed, when saw that the caller wasn't Elizabeth.

"Yeah, Finch?" she said.

"Miss Shaw, we have a problem," came Finch's tinny voice. "We just got a new number."

"Wonderful," Shaw said. "Does this mean I'm off babysitting duty?"

"Yes, because the number we just received is Miss Ruben's."

Shaw muted the TV and slowly stood up.

"Is she still at her apartment?" Shaw asked, her voice cool and professional, but inwardly, an unfamiliar _something_ clenched in her chest.

"I don't know; she didn't answer her landline," Finch said. "And her burner phone is turned off. I'm pulling up the tracking data for her personal cell through her carrier. In the meantime, I suggest you head over to her apartment ASAP. Mr. Reese is currently in a precarious situation and is unavailable."

"Call me as _soon_ as you get anything." She hung up and rounded on the brogrammer, who quickly pretended he hadn't been listening in on the conversation. " _You._ Don't you move a _muscle_ from that chair."

"But—"

"Do the words 'armed hitmen' mean anything to you?" The man gulped and nodded. "That's what I thought," Shaw said. "Stay here and don't answer the phone." She paused and then added, "I'll give you your cell when I come back— _if_ you behave. Got it?"

She didn't even wait for him to finish nodding before she left, slamming the door behind her.

Shortly after, the Machine observed eighteen separate speeding violations against Shaw's driver's license between the safehouse and Elizabeth's apartment.

#####

" _Fuck_ ," I swore into the gag as the vibrator slowed yet again. I whined in frustration and balled my hands into fists as I tried to push my hips forward, hoping to get a little more stimulation from the dastardly device. This was the _sixth_ time in the past twenty-five minutes (I'd counted) that it'd turned itself down to the point of being completely ineffectual. Over and over again, it would run on high for a minute or two, building me up, and then turn itself back down. Faster, slower. Faster. Slower.

Mostly slower.

By now, as much as I tried to deny it, I was craving release. Arousal burned between my legs, the desire growing by the minute, my body unsatisfied by the meager vibrations. My breath came in short pants. My body tingled with warmth, my skin hyper-sensitive to the tickling caress of my own clothing as I trembled and struggled.

 _Fuck Root_ , I thought in a daze. _Fuck that fucking lunatic for tying me up and leaving me like this. She could've at_ least _turned it up a little higher_. _I_ need _more_! (I tried to censor that thought even as it formed in my mind, but it was too late—and it was true.)

My eyes flickered to the clock.

 _Another half hour of this?_ I thought, groaning. But that thought was washed away a second later by the toy turning itself up again, which got a startled squeak out of me. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sweet sensations building between my legs. I hoped like hell that the vibrator would stay turned up long enough for me to get off properly. I _needed_ it.

When it turned itself down again, mere _seconds_ before I felt like my body was going to finally get its release, I flat-out _howled_ into the gag out of frustration, swearing and cursing and calling Root every bad name I could think of. I looked to the clock in desperation, and started swearing again when I saw I still had a half hour of this madness to endure.

Not that I had any choice in the matter...

#####

Shaw forced herself to slow down and drive carefully as she arrived at Elizabeth's parking complex, her eyes scanning the two-story white-and-green buildings for any signs of a threat. Seeing none apparent, she parked and walked as casually as she could up the front walk to Elizabeth's door.

The shades were drawn. No noise came from within the apartment. Shaw withdrew her spare key (okay, a _copy_ of Elizabeth's spare key, which she had made back when Elizabeth had still held funny notions like "Shaw and John shouldn't be able to barge into my apartment whenever they wanted") and unlocked the door, pushing it open softly. Double-checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she hitched up her jacket, withdrew the pistol from her waistband, and made her way into the apartment.

"Dammit, she's not here, Finch," Shaw said once she had cleared all the rooms. "I don't see her wallet or phone. You hacked her carrier yet?"

"Not yet; they recently updated their database, and is proving difficult to-"

"What are you, some script kiddie? I thought you were the world's best hacker or some shit."

"Ms. Shaw-"

"Elizabeth might be fucking _dying_ here," Shaw growled. She paced back and forth in front of Elizabeth's dusty television. "What's taking so long?"

"I will have the data for you within five minutes," Finch said stiffly.

Shaw continued to pace. Although she was sorely tempted, she withheld from asking Finch for updates, knowing he would let her know the moment he found any info.

As it turned out, Finch made good on his promise, coming back on the line two minutes later to give an address. Shaw was back behind the wheel within moments, burning rubber as the car screeched out of the parking lot and zoomed down the road.

"Is Reese free yet?" she asked Finch, calmly swerving around a Prius that had no business being in the fast lane.

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Shaw. You're on your own for the time being."

"That's just great." Shaw hung up and focused on the road, darting in and out of traffic and generally driving like a menace as she shaved precious seconds off the navigation ETA. She could feel the front wheels reaching the limits of their traction as she made a hard left across two lanes of oncoming traffic, swerving around a truck whose driver honked angrily and in vain.

When she reached the office complex, she once again forced herself to slow down, driving as casually as possible while simultaneously scanning the surrounding buildings for threats as she parked. She was out of the car, her hand on the butt of her pistol, almost before the vehicle had come to a stop.

She was alone.

Shaw gazed around the lot, taking in every detail, looking for any sign of Elizabeth. Her concentration was broken when her phone began to ring—with a familiar ring tone.

"Elizabeth?" Shaw said quickly. "Are you OK? Where are you?"

"Sorry," came a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice. "Elizabeth can't come to the phone right now."

Her mouth tightening to a thin line, Shaw began walking towards the building.

"Root," she said, "why are you calling from Elizabeth's number?"

"Well, sweetie," Root said easily, "that would probably be because I have Elizabeth's phone."

"And why do you have Elizabeth's phone?" Shaw said, her voice dangerously low. She looked over her shoulder. "I told you to stay the _fuck_ away from her."

"Technically, I _am_ away from her. At the moment, I mean. I wasn't earlier. In fact, we were getting very...up close and personal."

"Root, you have five seconds to tell me what's going on before I—"

"Re _lax_ ," Root drawled. "Ellie's safe. Maybe not exactly happy though. She's a little tied up at the moment."

Shaw's jaw muscle clenched. " _Where's Elizabeth_? What did you do to her?"

"Why don't you come find out for yourself?" Root purred. "I'm sure she'll be very happy to see you. Don't leave her waiting too long."

"Root, what the _fuck_ did you do to her?"

"I just stashed her somewhere out of the way for you to find," Root said. "Room 204. By the way, don't worry about rushing back to your favorite Redditor at the safe house. I'll take good care of him. You should focus on your girlfriend."

Shaw closed her eyes and sighed as she realized what had happened.

"Don't worry," Root continued. "Elizabeth is upstairs. Perfectly safe. If I'd wanted to hurt either of you, I would've done it by now. Go on. Step inside. You've got the place to yourselves."

"Root, I will _find_ you, and—"

"Blah blah blah something something wish I'd never been born, got it. Look, I gotta go bag up your brogrammer. You should really be thanking me. I'm doing you a favor. Anyway—bye now."

There was a _click_ , and the line went dead.

The front door of the office was unlocked. Shaw swept through the lobby, a silent shadow, and made her way upstairs. Stalking down the hallway, her pistol held firmly in front of her with both hands, she stopped at the door marked 204. She put her ear to the wood, but could only hear soft, indistinct sounds. Steeling herself, she put one hand on the door handle, counted to three, and shoved the door open.

And stared.

#####


	3. Chapter 3

#####

Shaw wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Well, all right. She'd been expecting to see Elizabeth, of course. Elizabeth handcuffed to a radiator, maybe, or Elizabeth drugged and unconscious. A small part of her—the fearful, pessimistic side—had been expecting blood and tears, but there was none of that.

Whatever Shaw had been expecting was nothing like the sight before her.

She stared.

It was the ball gag that caught her eye first; it was fat and red and glistening, held between Elizabeth's lips with a thick leather strap that wrapped around her head, disappearing into her hair. Elizabeth's freckled face was rosy, flushed with heat, and so was her neck. From there, Shaw's eyes made their way downward, taking in the way the ropes were wrapped tight around Elizabeth's snowy white blouse, the bindings constricting her chest and drawing attention to her breasts, cradled as they were between the two lengths of rope above and below. Her arms were doubtlessly tied tightly behind her, probably held fast by the ropes that lashed her hips down to the chair.

Elizabeth's legs were spread and bound securely to the chair, but her modesty was preserved by the ruffled blue skirt pooled around her thighs. Her ankles were bound to the back of the chair, leaving her feet, still shod in tan leather sandals, dangling with her toes hanging an inch above the carpet.

The captive woman scowled and huffed angrily into her gag as Shaw stood in the doorway, still trying to process the image before her.

"Elizabeth," Shaw breathed. Finally remembering to move, she stepped into the room, her training kicking in as she quickly scanned all the corners while keeping her pistol pointed safely at the ground. As soon as she was satisfied that no one was hiding behind the desk, she ran to Elizabeth's side and knelt down next to the bound woman.

"You're safe now," Shaw said, her fingers already expertly unfastening the buckle on the ball gag. She pulled it out of Elizabeth's mouth and wiped the trail of saliva away from her chin. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Shaw…" Elizabeth gasped.

"Root's gone," Shaw said. "I'm going to get you out of here." She picked at the knots on the ropes wrapped around her torso, trying not to pay too much attention to the way they were squeezing and emphasizing Elizabeth's modest breasts. (Okay, maybe she snuck in a few appreciative glances.)

"Shaw, wait…" Elizabeth mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Shaw didn't stop working at the knots until Elizabeth said, "Can…can you turn it up first?"

Shaw blinked, not understanding at first until Elizabeth looked shyly away and glanced downward at her skirt. She shifted awkwardly, as much as her bonds allowed. For the first time, Shaw noticed the faint humming sound.

Had Root _really_ …?

"It's been driving me nuts," Elizabeth whimpered. "She set it to some random mode and—I-c-can you just turn it up? Just for a few minutes? _Please_?"

It took Shaw a few seconds to find her voice. "I don't know if that's a good idea," Shaw said carefully, glancing over her shoulder at the open door. In her haste, she had forgotten to close it behind her.

" _Please_ ," Elizabeth whined. "I've been like this for a fucking _hour_."

Shaw considered. She had been planning to rescue Elizabeth, drop her off at the nearest available safehouse, and then burn rubber back to her Number. They didn't have time to stick around, and even if they _did_ have time, the building was unfamiliar and unsecured.

At least, that had been the plan for the situation before Root had called.

Now Shaw knew it was pointless to return to her Number. Root had well and truly played her; there was no doubt that the Number was even now being kidnapped at taser-point, and she would likely never see him again. (Not that she was upset about that or anything.) And, as Root had promised, it _did_ look like they had the place to themselves.

So why hurry?

" _Shaw_ ," Elizabeth whimpered. "Come on!"

Coming to a decision, Shaw hushed Elizabeth with a single finger across her lips. She stood and walked to the door, closing and locking it, and then sauntered back to Elizabeth, who followed her every movement with desire gleaming in her eyes.

Kneeling reverently in front of the chair, Shaw carefully hiked up Elizabeth's skirt to reveal the wand vibrator nestled against her intimates. Her panties were soaked and beads of sweat clung to her rosy thighs.

"Turn it up," Elizabeth pleaded, and she held her breath as Shaw's fingers neared the switch. But instead of adjusting the toy's intensity, Shaw's fingers slid under the rope holding the vibrator's handle against Elizabeth's leg.

"Wait, no, what are you doing?" Elizabeth gasped as Shaw untied the vibrator. The head of the toy came away dripping with wetness. "Aww, c'mon. Put it back! I _need_ it!"

"I can see that," Shaw said.

" _Shaw_!"

"This is a great toy," Shaw said idly. She pressed a button on the handle and the buzzing noise redoubled. Elizabeth's eyes tracked the humming device with hunger as Shaw waved it around, much as Root had done an hour before. "Do you want it?"

"Yes, _please!_ "

"It's great for sore muscles," Shaw said, and to Elizabeth's irritation, she began rubbing the business end of the device along her inner thighs—far from where she _needed_ it. "Your legs must be super sore after being tied up this long."

"Come on, cut the crap," Elizabeth growled. "I _really_ need to oh _, oh, oh!_ "

Shaw held the toy against Elizabeth's panties for several seconds and admired the way the bound woman's face got even redder as she made inarticulate noises. Then Shaw took the vibrator away again.

" _No!_ " Elizabeth moaned, "Shaw, please, don't—don't do that."

"Don't? Okay." She clicked the toy off.

" _No_! No no no! Not what I meant! Not what I meant!" She struggled angrily against her bonds.

"Well, make up your mind," Shaw said, running her palms along Elizabeth's thighs. For a moment, Shaw's roving fingers tickled close to her womanhood, but the brief contact wasn't nearly enough to make a difference. "First you say _yes_ , then you say _no_ —"

" _Please_ ," Elizabeth begged. "I _really_ need to come."

"Do you now?"

"Yes, yes!" Elizabeth struggled to move.

"What's it worth to you?" She was really enjoying the desperation in Elizabeth's voice.

" _Shaw!_ "

"It's been awhile since you've baked me cookies." Shaw calmly held Elizabeth's imploring gaze for several seconds. Then she smirked and held up the toy again, clicking it on high. "Just kidding. You've had a rough day. I know how to make you feel better."

Without waiting for a response, she pulled Elizabeth's panties aside with one hand and, with the other, held the vibrator against her clit.

Elizabeth's eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in a soundless gasp. Her fingers clenched and her toes splayed. Her hips tried to grind against the toy even as they were held back by the ropes, but it didn't matter, because Shaw held the buzzing device tightly against her trembling body.

She was trying to say something, Shaw thought, but she couldn't get the words out. She managed a shaky moan, which turned to a squeak and was suddenly cut off, and for several long seconds, there was only the persistent buzzing of the vibrator as Elizabeth's body went taunt.

" _Ah_ , okay," Elizabeth gasped out, "I came, turn it off." But Shaw didn't take the toy away or turn it down.

"Pft, you've been pent up for an hour, there's no way that's all you're getting."

"Shaw!" Elizabeth said sharply. The chair creaked as she squirmed, trying to buck the toy away, but there was no escape. "Shaw, turn it down!"

"No," Shaw said simply, and instead, she began to move the toy in tight little circles. "You know your safewords."

"Shaw! _Oh_! Oh _f-fuck!"_

"That's what I'm doing," Shaw said. She moved the toy up and down, making Elizabeth yelp and swear at the intense sensations. Shaw had to hand it to Root—she'd done a _really_ good job tying Elizabeth up. The ropes held fast despite Elizabeth's struggles, which was quickly becoming more and more urgent.

But it wasn't long before Elizabeth's protestations morphed into near-uninteligible pleas for more. Shaw was only too happy to oblige, keeping the toy centered on Elizabeth's womanhood, but moving it around just enough to keep her from getting desensitized and numb. Soon Elizabeth was on the precipice again.

Elizabeth's face was perfect, Shaw thought. The wide, begging eyes, cast skyward; the parted lips, caught mid-gasp; the look of rapture, adorned with freckles-

Her body shuddered, her muscles trembling, her feet shaking. Shaw felt something warm and sticky coat her hand. She raised an eyebrow. It'd been quite awhile since she'd managed to get Elizabeth to squirt.

" _Ah_! F-fuck!" Elizabeth yelped. She recoiled, her body shaking. "T-turn it off! Too much!"

Shaw let Elizabeth suffer and squirm for just a moment longer, before finally clicking off the wand and setting it aside. Elizabeth slumped in relief, her gasps tapering off as she caught her breath.

"There we go," Shaw said, brushing a slick strand of hair out of Elizabeth's eyes. "Better?"

" _Yeah_ ," Elizabeth sighed happily.

"All right," Shaw said. "Time to get you out of this." She searched the desk and soon found a pair of shears, which made quick work of the ropes binding Elizabeth to the chair. Shaw cut the ropes binding her wrists first, then freed her torso. Elizabeth wiggled her fingers and stretched her arms, reveling in the tingling warmth as her limbs woke up after being tied in one position for so long. She gingerly ran her fingers over the rope marks around her wrists and upper arms. They would fade within an hour or two, but right now they were bright, angry red.

Shaw loosened the bindings around her knees and then, finally, parted the ropes around each ankle. She held out a hand to help Elizabeth stand. It took a few attempts. Once she was on her feet, Elizabeth awkwardly smoothed her skirt and straightened her blouse, brushing sweaty strands of hair free from her neck.

"Do you think you can walk straight?" Shaw said, a teasing smirk on her face.

"No thanks to you," Elizabeth said, leaning heavily against Shaw. "But yeah. Let's go home…"

#####

"V!" Elizabeth yelled at the same time Shaw called out, "X!"

"X? Really?" Elizabeth said.

"Clearly the first word is 'sexy'. Therefore, X." Shaw licked her spoon clean and dug around in the carton for the remnants of the ice cream. The dessert had been pilfered from Elizabeth's freezer. Elizabeth had long ago learned to keep extra goodies on hand for Shaw.

"It's not even a four-letter word!" Elizabeth groaned. She was swaddled in a cocoon of comfy blankets on the couch. Only her head and the very top of her shoulders were visible. "There's five spaces. You are _literally_ the worst at this game."

Shaw shrugged. "It's too painful for me to watch regularly. Especially when the contestants are dumb enough to do _that_." She jabbed at the television with the spoon.

"Oh no," Elizabeth gasped. "Oh no, she's spinning again."

"Oh yes."

"She could've solved it!"

"Aaaaand _bankrupt_."

They both sighed as the contestant lost all the money, the Bahamas vacation, and the half car coupon she'd picked up over the course of the last few minutes.

"And now," Shaw said, "the guy on the left is going to solve, because he's not stupid."

Sure enough, a second later, the contestant said, "Pat, I'd like to solve the puzzle," and then it was all over and the show cut to a car commercial.

"I don't understand why you don't just stream everything," Shaw said, tossing the now-empty carton to the coffee table. "There's no ads that way."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I used to watch television with my mother a lot when I was a kid. It's family tradition to make fun of dumb advertisements. And you can always use that time to pee or get a snack from the kitchen."

"I'd rather just not deal with the ads," Shaw said.

"Mmm."

For a little while, they watched "real people" extol the virtues of a SUV that, in Shaw's opinion, resembled more a blobby amoeba than a functional vehicle.

"Thanks for rescuing me today," Elizabeth said.

"I mean, how could I _not_ rescue the beautiful damsel in distress?"

Elizabeth scowled. "I'm going to throw something at you if you keep calling me that."

"How about 'Hapless Heroine' instead?" Shaw said, a tiny smirk finding its way to her lips.

In response, Elizabeth snaked one arm free from the blankets, trying—and failing—to reach the remote control on the coffee table. She made two half-hearted attempts and gave up, saying, "Meh. Hand me that so I can throw it at you, would you?" Her face softened. "But, really. Thanks. I was...kinda worried for a bit that you...you know...might not show up."

"As if," Shaw said. "I like seeing you tied up. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Uh-huh," Elizabeth said dryly.

"I just...prefer it when it's me doing the tying."

"Me too."

Another ad came on, this one for some medication with a list of side-effects longer than a CVS receipt.

"So, uh," Elizabeth said as the narrator described all the ways a person could experience gastrointestinal distress, "what are you planning to do to Root?"

"I haven't decided yet," Shaw said. Elizabeth observed the muscle in her jaw tightening, the shape being emphasized by the shadows cast from the television. "Don't worry, I'll think of _something_."

"Mmm. Just don't kill her or anything like that."

"Killing her would be so boring," Shaw said. "I'll make it more interesting."

"Try not to leave her disfigured for life either. I mean, she _did_ manage to pull off her crazy plan without getting anybody hurt. That's improvement. You know. For her."

"She left you tied up and alone," Shaw said darkly. "There _will_ be retribution."

"Shaw..."

" _Fine,_ I won't kill her."

"And no brutal dismemberment?"

"No brutal dismemberment."

"And you're not going to leave her in some dark hole like John does with the people he doesn't like?"

"You're really not leaving me a lot to work with here."

" _Shaw._ "

"Fine. No shipping her off to my favorite black site. No death. No permanent damage. I'm still going to make her regret kidnapping you."

"Maybe an eye for an eye sort of thing."

"I can work with that."

"Then I'm happy," Elizabeth said.

With the ads over, the two of them went back to watching Wheel of Fortune.

#####

Root couldn't see. The burlap sack over her head made sure of that. She couldn't move, either. Even if she hadn't been zip-tied to a chair, her muscles were still aching and twitching from the taser barbs, and she probably wouldn't have gotten far if she'd tried to run.

She couldn't see or move, but she could hear, and she knew _exactly_ who the echoing footsteps belonged to.

"Sa _meen_ ," she said cheerfully, turning her head towards where she was guessing Shaw was standing. "This is exactly how I pictured our first date going."

"You know," Shaw said, her voice devoid of emotion, "I promised Elizabeth I wouldn't kill or maim you. No permanent damage."

"I know. Thanks for that."

"But I didn't promise I wouldn't make you scream."

"A girl after my own heart," Root said dreamily.

"We'll see if you're still saying that in a few hours..."

#####

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
